Black

chapter one.

There's a man.

He's driving and he looks...nervous.

He glances at me and suddenly looks guilty.

I look down at feet, my legs dangling from the passenger seat. My sock monkey sits on my lap, staring at me with the same expression it's been wearing since I first got it.

The car finally stops and I look back up to the man. This time I know who he is.

My dad.

He gets out of the car and I wait for him. He opens my door frantically, unbuckling my belt twice as fast and helping me out. He pulls the strap of a pink book bag with a rainbow colored horse onto my shoulders.

We're in a deserted area. There are only trees; their leaves dry and crusted on the ground, scattering away from the light wind.

My dad bends down to look into my eyes, his brown ones glassed over with tears as he shuts the car door.

"Daddy, why are you crying?" I hear myself ask, bringing my hand up to wipe his tears.

The tears slip down his face quicker as he looks down at the ground, taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

"I...I just want you to know I love you," He looks back up at me. Dark brown eyes gaze into mine. "I love you so much." He pulls me into his arms and cries onto my shoulder.

But all too soon, he stands back to his feet and gets into the car. I look at him through the passenger window and then reach for the handle but stop when I hear the car door lock.

"Daddy?" I call but he doesn't look at me. His hands seem to tighten on the steering wheel before the car finally begins to slowly move. "Daddy." I call again. I feel tears burning my eyes as the car speeds up and I begin to run after it.

"Daddy!" I call louder, chasing the car and trip on my own feet, my hands scraping roughly on the dirt. I look back up to see the car still moving quickly.

And I watch my father leave me.

Alone.

                        •••

My eyes fly open. I can't breathe. I sit up and take a deep breath, grabbing the glass of water on my nightstand and chugging it.

The same dream again.

I set my bare feet onto the cold wood floor of my bedroom. The coolness sends a surge of relaxation as I'm soaked in sweat. I glance at my alarm clock as it reads 5:37am.

I stare at the clock until the seven changes to an eight. I stand and walk into the small bathroom of my tiny apartment. It was the cheapest apartment I could find in the city.

Turning the cold faucet on, I splash my face before looking up to stare at my tired reflection in the rusted mirror.

The slight bags underneath my hazel eyes show how much sleep I've gotten. I wake up every morning to the same dream. If I'm lucky, I don't dream at all.

I run my fingers through the mess of light brown strands of hair on my head. My lips are cracked, as usual.

I switch the shower on and hop into the cold rain of water, shivering at the sudden chill of the water running down my back but it soothes me.

After a while, I make it warmer, cleansing my body of the dream that plays repeatedly over and over in my head.

It's 6am when I get out of the shower and then 6:20am when I finish getting dressed and eating the last bowl of Lucky Charms, emptying the last drop of milk from its carton.